Path to Ascension
by FearMyLvl
Summary: One an Emperor, the other: his Magus. Only known as a man blinded by his arrogance, the other condemned by his betrayal. But there is so much history has failed to tell us...
1. Azir

**A/N: To the people who are reading this, HELLO. This is my first LoL fanfiction and first story I have posted on this site. So I'm hoping to improve on my writing, so pleeeeease leave reviews. If you decided this is the worst story you have ever read, TELL ME HOW I CAN IMPROVE INSTEAD OF JUST CLICKING OFF PLZ. **

**HUGE thanks to Supreme Distraction for beta reading. Most, if not all of my mistakes are now corrected.**

**Anyways, that's all i have to say for now. Enjoy the story :D**

"Your majesty, we are nearing the Tempestan capital. The men are awaiting your command"

Azir turned to face the High Falcon. "Understood, Diomedes. We will march soon"

The armored man bowed and silently exited the tent, the metal moving noiselessly due to its many enchantments.

The tent flap fell shut and the young boy sighed. _Alright... Almost finished..._

He donned his helmet – something similar to the masks the Magi wore, but thicker with emeralds embedded in the eye holes, enhancing the wearer's vision and turned to face his mirror; a warrior clad in plates of gold and pauldrons of emerald moved with him. He raised a gauntlet, tapping its razor sharp fingers against his chest plate and, as expected, the contact made no sound.

_Well, at least I look impressive... Even if I am a little short..._

He grabbed the spear-staff leaning on the wall beside the mirror, measuring himself against the haft; the young prince only reached about three-fourths of its height, not counting the hovering double headed point floating at the tip.

Azir strode out of the tent, the thin banners on his arms billowing as he walked. His royal body guard, the Falcons, assembled around him, forming a protective cordon that the young prince couldn't see over.

He sighed again in his helm, sure that the sound would not escape the armor, was blindly led to the rally point in preparation for the coming assault.

For several minutes, all he could see was a shifting wall of yellow and green, the dirt beneath him, and the sky above. The guards slowed down slightly and Azir could hear quiet murmurs; deducing that he was now being escorted through the bulk of the army, he held his head high in anticipation of the required speech before battle.

Soon the Falcons slowed down and came to a stop, the white noise of his forces now behind him.

The front two men parted and allowed the young boy to see the bulk of his military: an ocean of gold roiled about, dotted with the shafts of spears, the blades of swords, and the curved surfaces of shields. In the distance, he could see the sharp angles of Shuriman war engines: massive machines with an arcane core, capable of decimating an entire village on their own.

But the forces they were facing were no helpless men and women in buildings of sticks and stone. They were facing the nomads of the Tempest Flats, people who could create semi-sentient beings of the four elements – who could conjure massive storms of lightning, wind, fire and earth, decimating whole armies in a matter of minutes.

Caution was required; Azir had been reminded of that countless times by the war council. But the command of the army ultimately fell to the young boy.

The soldiers were looking expectantly at their child prince, who gave heaved a breath before he began to speak-

A rumbling boom echoed across the grassy plains, interrupting Azir, and the Falcons closed around him in a practiced formation, obscuring his sight again,

_Godsdamnit..._ The young prince levitated to peek over the pauldrons of the bodyguards behind him.

His eyes widened in shock as he saw what raced across the valley.

Darkness.

Pure, black, impenetrable darkness.

Not even with his enhanced vision could he pierce the veil of the coal colored cloud that smothered the other hill, easily matching the size of his assembled forces.

It moved fast enough to prevent escape, but slow enough to give the prince time to prepare.

Each helmet of the royal party was linked to one another by threads of energy, allowing for instantaneous communication regardless of the terrain and the deep voice of the High Falcon, captain of the guard, reverberated clearly in the young boy's mind:

"It would be best if you gave the men a speech before the battle."

He took a look at the soldiers arrayed before him: they had become restless, he could see the eyes of the men and women, nervously dart around, as if looking for a solution to the obsidian mass that had appeared before them.

Azir took a shaky breath and modified his earlier presentation...

"Brothers and Sisters" _Good thing this helmet deepens my voice..._ "We were forged in victory, a victory that brought forth the reign of Shurima. Born from the plains of the merciless sand sea, tempered by the anvil of war, we emerged out of the chaos. As the empire grew, so too did the might of the Shurimans. We created a place of peace and prosperity. A place that lives in the safety of our empire."

He paused for emphasis, allowing the full weight of his words to sink in before continuing:

"An empire that has come to be the absolute measure of strength and power. Now, on this day, that power is to be tested. Those savages, the Tempestan's seek to destroy all that we have wrought. They have created this blasphemy to the holy Sun Disc! Soldiers: put aside the fear, - the burdens – that have chained you for so long. We will unite. We will stand together, and we will wipe out this plague. Shurima... will prevail!"

The assembled army broke out into thunderous applause, accented with whoops and hollers. Azir smiled thought it was hidden; this was one of the few things he enjoyed about being a prince. Between all of the endless advisers, documents, and responsibilities, he liked delivering speeches. Motivating his forces gave him a certain feeling of pride nothing else could quite match.

He turned his head towards Diomedes, easily singled out by the emeralds in the eye sockets of his helmet; the rest of the Falcons either had sapphires or rubies, only the High Falcon and members of the royal family were allowed to utilized the green gem. The elite bodyguard gave the smallest of nods, a confirmation that Azir, had indeed, done well.

He descended from the air and planted his feet on the ground as the army began to split into its designated formations.

"Companies five through twenty, front line with fifty through seventy five. Twenty one to forty nine, begin barrage at my command. Basilisks, standby. Await for my signal." Azir gave the orders in a clear, concise voice, betraying no hint of trepidation as the grand army shifted to follow his instructions.

The young prince descended the hill with his guards, moving at what seemed like an agonizingly slow pace to him. He absentmindedly twirled his staff, studying it as light reflected off of its polished surface.

They soldiers had moved as per Azir's specifications: shield-bearers formed the front line with spear-men and sword-dancers; legions of archers readied their bows in the bulk of the army; and grand artillery batteries dotted the back line, ready to unleash their devastating payloads upon the enemies of Shurima.

They neared the edge of the darkness and Azir roared to his troops as shadows swept over them, the helmet lowering his voice to a deep baritone, "**EYE ****TO**** EYE!**"

Twenty thousand voices answered him, "**TOOTH TO TOOTH!**"

Then all went black as the cloud consumed them.

**A/N: So that concludes chapter 1, bonus points for anyone that can guess the motto at the end :D Read and Review pls!**


	2. Arkus

**A/N: This fanfic will be dotted with references (if I can incorporate them well) and if you recognize them, leave it in the reviews: Enjoy part 2!**

****Thanks to my Beta Reader Supreme Distraction, most (if not all) grammatical and punctuation errors have been corrected. :D****

A series of spheres hovered about the rectangular dueling hall, casting their magical light across the stone. The room was momentarily lit up by a flash of unnatural lightning, before the plasma disappeared, leaving the room slightly darker than before.

Xerath blinked a few times to get the afterimage out of his eyes as he quickly blocked a stream of fire with one of water; steam filled the box-like pit, obscuring their vision. When a figure shifted in the mist, another bolt of lightning followed the first – only this time, it hit its mark.

His opponent spasmed for a moment before he was flung backwards to strike the wall on the far side of the pit and the boy panted for a few seconds, gasping for air to compensate for his strenuous exertions, before he righted himself and bowed to Damas.

The Magus nodded before clearing the mist with a gentle wind and, while Xerath ascended the steps and headed towards his teacher, servants descended the steps and took his opponent to the medical ward to make sure the duel had caused no permanent damage.

The man's face was encapsulated by a mask in the likeness of an animal the Temple revered: the Falcon. Smooth feathers ran downwards towards his chest, bisected by a hooked beak, all fashioned from precious metals. The rest of him was clad in sand-colored robes with thin trimmings of green, gold, and silver, though the crest of Shurima was not woven into them – no one could mistake a Magus of the empire for anything else.

"Well done, Xerath. But..." Damas paused. "You must think about your actions in advance. Do not rely on the sands of destiny to always shift in your favor."

The triumphant grin that adorned the boy's face became slightly miffed at the reprimand, but he nodded in understanding. "Of course, Magus. Who is my opponent for tomorrow?"

The calm look on man's face was marred as he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. "If my memory serves correctly, you will be facing Arkus." Xerath nodded and, as he prepared to bow, Damas continued, "And do try to use something other than lightning – it leaves an unpleasant smell in the air."

The boy nodded again and met the Magus' gaze, he could have imagined; the near imperceptible twinkle of amusement in those dark orbs, but it was gone before he could be sure.

He bowed and exited just as another of Damas' apprentices walked in, ready for their practice session and assessment.

Xerath agilely weaved through the sandstone halls of the Temple of the Falcon, bowing to his 'superiors' as tradition demanded – a rule silently enforced by the great statues that lined the halls and were scattered around the Temple, reminding the people of their ancestry – for he was nothing but a lowly disciple, beneath the notice of the Magi.

At least, that was what everyone else assumed.

The boy spent a significant amount of time in the Great Library, studying all manner of techniques and spells well beyond his years. Things that would confound an adept were merely a challenge to his intelligence, one his insatiable hunger for the arcane arts.

Alas, Xerath could not show the extent of his skills for fear of punishment. The thought brought up an old memory of his previous teacher – one who had taught his initiate class.

It had been during the final test day, similar to the one twenty four hours from now: the examination would be one of skill, strength, and tactical proficiency. While Xerath had no problems fighting with magic, his endurance was lacking and his usual strategy was simply to overpower his opponent with spells.

On that distant day in the past, the child had allowed the duel to progress normally, tossing the appropriate level techniques and attempting to construct plans that would grant him victory. Xerath could have easily ended it, but he was neither cruel nor mean-spirited, so he allowed the other child to garner a barely passing score before he ended with a flourish.

He had launched a Magus-level fire spell known as, the Phoenix; shaped in the form of a strange bird the boy had never encountered before, except in the tomes he studied, it had impacted his opponent with enough force to slam his opponent harshly into the wall and wreathed him in flame. Only the timely intervention of their teacher had saved him the child from harsh burns.

A fitting coup de grâce, though rather excessive.

His opponent had remained in the infirmary for a week to recover from the damage to his back, while Xerath had been given seventy lashes – ten for each day the other boy had spent in the medical ward.

But the Magus training him was not stupid and had advanced Xerath to a disciple class, allowing him to skip the apprentice phase of his training – not that he didn't know everything in it already.

Still, the lesson had not been lost on him and now he only used the correct level of spells when dueling for, however much he liked to show his intellect, he knew the punishment would be worse if he committed the same offense a second time.

Damas had encouraged him to use his mind to sharpen his strategic and tactical mastery – something he had very little knowledge of – instead of dwelling on what he couldn't do.

But he knew of someone who had and was on his way to meet them now.

The child was still absent-mindedly rubbing the scars on his back as he arrived at the Great Library, where his attention was caught by a muffled conversation coming from between the shelves. The boy searched the room to locate the source of the exchange between the two unknown parties, curious as to what they were speaking about.

After going through half of the library he finally came upon the origin of the sound: a fairly tall boy – no, a teenager; one he easily recognized from Damas' class named Arkus. His face possessed a strong jaw line, framed by his angular features. His hair was dark and short, falling forward slightly. But the teenager's most distinctive feature were his eyes: they were a gun-metal grey color; hard and unyielding, currently leveled on the three people before him.

One was slightly shorter than Arkus, held an obvious air of arrogance around him. His beady, dark eyes were glaring back at the teenager across from him. Xerath guessed he looked about twenty. His aquiline nose betrayed aristocratic origins, as did the fact that his robes had a near-gold color to them. Xerath assumed he belonged to one of the noble families of Shurima – a man like that was hard pressed to be mistaken for someone else.

Another boy who was obviously an indentured servant, stood beside him,, wearing a light brown shirt and pants – the standard uniform for all Shuriman slaves. He had a thin body, evident by how much his clothing billowed with every movement. His skin was dark, identical to the majority of Shurimans, but that was where the similarities ended. It was blindingly obvious he was not native to this land and his flat features betrayed his tribal origins. But it wasn't the fact that he was a slave that was strange; most noble houses and some commoners possessed them as well. No, what was peculiar was the servant was accompanying who Xerath presumed to be his master: all slaves were restricted to their respective household unless one of the noble family members specified otherwise, which was very rare.

The third person standing beside the aristocrat was female. She carried herself with a certain grace that complimented her svelte frame while her shocking violet eyes held an undeniable intelligent glint to them, sweeping the room and its contents for unknown purposes. A curtain of straight, black fell to the small of her back, framing an angular face that was embellished by a petite nose and full lips. Her eyes darted towards Xerath and the two made eye contact for half a second as he peeked around the shelf. He was afraid he had been caught, but as she returned her attention to the scene before her it seemed he was allowed to stay.

The first boy was throwing insults at Arkus, who, to Xerath's surprise, was taking it rather elegantly. The words the aristocrat chose were enough to make the child's blood boil had it been directed at him.

"What is scum like you doing here in the Temple?"

Arkus casually leaned back on the bookshelf and replied in a bored tone, "We both know the answer to that, noble."

His gaze darkened visibly as he growled, "Address me properly, street urchin."

The apathetic teenager rolled his eyes but otherwise remained silent.

"What's the matter mongrel?" The aristocrat's sneer managed to intensify somehow, "Too uneducated to understand these words?"

Arkus sighed, exaggerating the action as if replying to the question took great effort. "No, rich boy, if I couldn't understand you I wouldn't have answered before."

He continued, "This is the _seventh _time you've harassed me. If capitalize you have something to say, _say it._"

The aristocrat's expression darkened and, before Xerath could intervene, the nobleman punched at the other teenager.

Arkus did a lightning quick shuffle and dodged the punch that never made contact

The mysterious female - _A__ teenager maybe?_ Xerath wondered. _S__he certainly didn't look as old as Damas – _caught Salaco's forearm mid-lunge. Her violet eyes flashed dangerously at the aristocrat, who seemed to possess an inkling of defiance before he grudgingly pulled back.

The child could see his jaw working as he shot an annoyed glance at the girl before he faced Arkus again and spat at him. Xerath's classmate showed impressive speed as he side-stepped once more to avoid the organic missile, leaving it to splatter the books where his head had been.

A raised eyebrow was his only reaction.

Salaco's visage was one of frustration for a few moments before it turned into a scowl and he stormed off without another word. His slave offered a somewhat apologetic look at his owner's victim before hurrying off after the aristocrat the female eyed him for a split second before she too followed after the nobleman.

The teenager nonchalantly stretched his arms as he spoke: "All right, you can step out from behind the bookshelf now."

Xerath froze, unsure of what to do, he was afraid that he was going to be in trouble, again.

Arkus rolled his eyes, a motion the child had become familiar with seeing now, and called out in a quiet voice, "Look, I'm not going to hurt you, okay? _Especially_ not in the Great Library"

As intelligent as the child was, sometimes he forgot very obvious facts. Reassured by the guardian that roamed the stacks, he emerged from his hiding spot.

The teenager's eyes widened slightly as he recognized his class mate. "Xerath? What are you doing here?"

"I heard some noise coming from between the shelves, so I decided to check it out." The child tilted his head slightly and adopted a confused expression. "What was that all about?"

Arkus' neutral visage broke into one of embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his head. "That nobleman has tried to intimidate me ever since I arrived at the temple. I don't know what his problem is."

"You weren't born here?"

"Nope, I'm from outside the walls."

The child's eyes widened with curiosity. "Really? What is it like out there?"

"You don't need to know."

"Pleeease?"

"No."

"Come on."

"No!"

"Why not?"

The steel-eyed boy sighed."Okay, fine. BUT! I'll tell you only if you can defeat me tomorrow."

Xerath nodded, a comical look of determination etched upon his face. "Deal."

Then, he trudged off to another section of the Great Library, intent on learning something that would guarantee him victory.

Arkus chuckled to himself. _Well, this should be easy..._

**A/N: Review pls! :D**


	3. Darkness

**A/N: My apologies for the long update time, my computer broke and it took a while to fix it. Then between school and laziness I finally got this small amount of writing done.**

**Tenkz a butt-ton to my beta reader Supreme Distraction for proof reading it. Trust me, the draft was far worse than this. She managed to hammer out probably all of the errors.**

**As always, please tell me if you find a plot hole, spelling error or whatever. (But Supreme probably got'em all)**

**Enjoy!**

Azir's field of view flashed green for a moment as the enchanted gemstones allowed him to see through the murky cloud. Although the fog still obscured his vision, it was not quite as bad as before. He felt a pulling sensation spread throughout his entire body before it quickly dissipated.

_Displacement magic, _he realized. _A__nd_ _something else too..._

The prince was relieved to see his guards were still in formation around him, but he realized the communications link between them had been disrupted. Their eyesight quickly adjusted and the Falcons automatically tightened into an impenetrable wall, surrounding Azir and limiting his vision.

Again.

The boy face-palmed.

"You do realize I can't-" He blinked, pausing mid-sentence when he realized he couldn't hear the sound of his own voice.

_Suppression magic... _The prince twirled his spear and raised it to the heavens. _Let's see them stop _this_._

Ribbons of energy circled the haft before shooting upwards in a beam of golden light, briefly parting the black fog to reveal the blue sky – but just as quickly as it had appeared, the cloud enveloped the small opening, leaving an impenetrable wall of obsidian smog above them.

The prince frowned.

_Perhaps __this cloud is__ more resilient than I thought. Hmph. Still, __it's__ no match for the arts of Shurima._

Magic swirled around the spear again and Azir slammed it into the ground, this time being careful to maintain the field it created. The half-sphere extended out several meters from the perimeter of the Falcon's phalanx, granting them clear vision and plenty of time to react to any potential threats with shield and sword.

And the aura Azir created revealed _many _threats.

From what he could see of the small space between the Shuriman plates of metal, there were dark figures skirting the border of the circle the boy had created, their shapes barely visible in the shadows Twisted giggles mixed with cries of pain and pleas echoed around them, but what disturbed the prince more was that his guards seemed to be flinching.

The Falcons were trained to be loyal to the point of fanaticism underneath an exterior of control, resolute in the face of danger and willing to unhesitatingly sacrifice themselves if need be. To see one of his royal guardians _recoil_ was a spectacle in and of itself, but before he could consider this, the obsidian figures charged.

"GET DOWN!"

Not bothering to acknowledge the return of his voice, Azir leapt forward as one of his Falcons kneeled: planting one foot on the guard's back, he speared the shadow through its head, the tip of his weapon_ meeting _no resistance, and the decapitated carcass fell to the ground with a thump. Withdrawing his staff, the soldier stood up and took his place in the phalanx once more with a nod of thanks towards the prince.

The boy watched as the headless wraith – blurred for a moment before bits of ink bled away, revealing it to be a Shuriman foot soldier missing his spear, eyes and helmet. The man's armor was cracked as he laughed, as if responding to a joke only he could hear, before the motions slowly ceased, leaving him locked in a wide grin in his final moments of life.

_Illusions... _He narrowed his eyes. _Why don't my emeralds work?_

The prince could hear the small rushes of air that accompanied the swipes of claws – the shadow people seemingly abandoning whatever they had in favor of their hands.

"Do not look into their faces!" the voice of Diomedes rang clear through the oppressive silence. "Trust in the earth beneath your feet and listen to the winds!"

Azir's closed his eyes and did as the High Falcon instructed, allowing his mind to detect the minute vibrations of the ground.

_Forward._

He disappeared in a blaze of light, reappearing in mid-air and lunging towards a wraith that slashed at the helmet of one of his Falcons. The prince opened his eyes to ensure his aim was true.

He faltered.

His breath caught in his chest.

His hand loosened its grip on his staff as he stared at the visage of the shadow soldier in front of him.

"Father?"

**A/N: That's all for now, sorry for the short chapter but I'm working on the next one right now!**

**The Daemon of Shadow: Thx, i'll do my best to keep up the quality.**

**Guest: Will do!**

**AseriMW: Thanks man! I'll try to make the introduction of Shuriman gadgets a little smoother if I can.**

**Fatalicious: I will, thanks for reviewing!**

**Remember if you guys have anything you want to say, don't hesitate to leave it in the reviews.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Fire and Ice

**A/N: Hello readers :D I'm back with a new chapter and you can expect another one being posted very soon as well. Now a warning: there is some gore; specifically a bit of self-harm. Now, this does not mean I condone self-harm in any way or form, I only used it for some creative license, SO DON'T DO IT.**

**But if you do want to skip it i've put (start) at the beginning of it to give you a heads up that its coming and (end) to tell you it's over. Just use ctrl+F to skip past it by finding (end). There will be two so becareful you don't miss the second set.**

**If you notice this chapter is a lot sloppier than the earlier ones it's because my beta reader, Supreme Distraction, is sick and I really don't want to bother her while she is still recovering, so excuse my mistakes please!**

**With that out of the way: Enjoy!**

_This isn't easy_

Several spears of ice flew towards Arkus, forcing him to duck and roll out of the way. The teenager retaliated in kind by drawing his arm back and launching a fireball. As with the previous fifty they had all whimpered into nothingness as the spheres struck the slabs of frozen water Xerath could materialize instantly.

Arkus wasn't worried about being impaled, the clothes he wore would prevent fatal injuries as long as he was in the arena, drastically reducing the chance of dying during monitored duels.

No, what worried him more was his opponent's amazing arsenal of magic, ranging from basic elemental manipulation to flawless pure energy control.

Arkus was an excellent pyromancer; better than Xerath even, but in this duel he was outmatched and he knew it.

Of the two spells he had spent the last week studying, both of them would give him a shot at winning; if he didn't screw up and kill himself while doing either one.

He sighed.

_Well... Desperate times call for desperate measures right?_

**(start)**

The teenager quickly bit the tip of his thumb, using the blood released to cover both his hands in a few seconds.

He could feel the heat of the red liquid burning between palms as he began to construct the spell, using the blood as a medium and fuel source for building the attack. It took much longer than he would have liked and Arkus had to leap sideways to avoid an avalanche of stone that threatened to crush his bones. As Xerath turned to face him he finally unleashed the Phoenix.

The teenager's blood having been sufficiently enchanted, he opened his hands and let go of the strenuous bond he had been maintaining. It took shape of a graceful falcon with wings of flame as it raced towards Xerath.

**(end)**

The magical prodigy flinched in momentary surprise before he propelled himself backwards with bursts of air at the same time raising thick slabs of compressed ice to form an impressive barrier.

Arkus held his breath as the fiery avian struck the child's shield.

The Phoenix seemed to detonate upon contact with the blue walls, spewing chunks of the frozen water against the walls while steam billowed about in the large arena, obscuring the vision of both combatants. There was total silence in the room as everyone struggled to see if Xerath had been knocked out.

Arkus' eyes widened when could see a black streak where the heat had charred the stone beneath.

_How powerful was that thing?_

It took an enormous amount of energy to damage the training areas and while the pyromancer hadn't exactly broken anything, it was still impressive that he managed to mark it.

His surprise was short lived when the fog cleared and revealed an unscathed fortress of ice.

Arkus groaned.

Damas furrowed his eyebrows behind his mask. He had considered stopping the duel due to the possibility of serious harm, now that it was proven both apprentices could use Magus level spells; Arkus with his Phoenix and Xerath with his Frost Prison, both of those techniques could pierce the low level of protection magic woven into their clothes.

But he was rather intrigued at how the battle would play out, with two participants on a level playing field – or at least as level as it could get with Xerath in the mix – this duel could prove who was the better magician.

So the Magus kept his mouth shut, quietly watching the exchange of spells.

Xerath had been caught off guard by the sudden appearance of such a potent spell, but managed to halt it in time before it came in contact with him. He knew that the longer this dragged on, the higher the chance he would have at losing due to Arkus' impressive stamina. The duel had been going on for the past five minutes and already Xerath was out of breath, while the grey eyed boy opposite him was still breathing normally.

_I must finish this quickly..._

And so, he sat in the small abode he had constructed while he formed the base of his latest technique. The child had to build this _very_ carefully as the spell could easily backfire and the results would catastrophic.

The boy decided it was worth the risk, and besides, once they saw he had invented his _own_ spell, there was no way they could hold him back with the petty apprentices; especially not if he won.

The sphere of energy gave small hisses as drops of sweat from the boy's face fell into the volatile orb.

Arkus was not idly waiting either, he knew whatever Xerath was doing in his castle of ice could not be beneficial to the teenager. Always the cautious type, he had prepared a second backup plan, one that would entail even more effort and pain than utilizing the Phoenix.

**(start)**

He formed a crude knife out of solid flame before he began cutting delicate patterns into his arms, the heat from the blade cauterized his wounds as he did his work.

The process hurt like hell, but he had endured worse.

**(end)**

Once the correct runes were in place, Arkus channeled energy into them one by one until they were prepared, before he let out the a war cry and cast the spell.

"INFERNAL!"

Flames exploded around his body and circled just above his skin, forming into interlocking solid plates of fire, the remaining moisture in the contained dueling arena was instantly vaporized. The separation barrier crackled from the sudden release of energy but quickly stabalized again.

The teenager suppressed a gasp as the heat burned his arms, the scent of singed flesh mingling with the flames surrounding them. But he managed to hold enough control to manipulate it with some effort. He forced the wild tendrils of fire to twist around him, covering his body and forming his hand into claws.

He charged towards a wall of ice, the impact doing little damage but the cracks deepened as he swiped at the crystals, his blade-like fingers cutting through them bit by bit.

Arkus clenched his teeth.

_This might take a while..._

The orb had grown steadily in the past few minutes, forcing Xerath to space his hands apart wider to avoid being incinerated by the raw power that formed between them.

_Just a few more..._ He trailed off as he was distracted by an _extremely_ bright glow getting closer to him every second. Xerath tensed his shoulders and took a deep breath.

_Now or never..._

Just as Arkus burst through to the boy, the sphere changed shape and transformed into a massive bolt of pure energy, slicing through the air and impacting the teenager a millisecond later.

All went black for the two apprentices.

**A/N: Who win? Who will lose? Da heck is happening to Azir? Find out in the next chapter!11!**

**Ly – Worry not! There is still more to come!**

**Thanks for reading guys and please don't hesitate to leave a review if you want to say anything. Constructive criticism appreciated and needed! **

**Until next time :3**


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